


(i'm) setting us in stone

by finkpishnets



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Alex/Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Minor Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: Reggie meets Luke first.[Or: how they meet, (how they die), and how they get tostay.]
Relationships: Luke Patterson/Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 284





	(i'm) setting us in stone

**Author's Note:**

> _hello_ comfort show of my heart. i am here for _every single dynamic_ , and i want to write for all of them, but i'm not surprised i started with soft reggie because, y'know. i have to stick to brand. 
> 
> have soft boys meeting and me trying to remember the '90s, feat. pre-canon → s1 → post s1.
> 
> (to my lovely anon from a few weeks ago, i hope this makes your day a little brighter ♥︎)

**~**

Reggie meets Luke first. 

People tend to think they all met as kids or something, but in reality they’re fourteen and Reggie’s snuck into the back of a gig at some crappy warehouse that’s really more noise than anything else, but also isn’t home _so_ …

There’s a boy in a Cure t-shirt with the arms torn off leaning against the wall as if no one will notice he’s underage if he just pretends hard enough. He’s staring at the lead guitarist with narrowed eyes — not quite a glare, but, like, intense concentration — and Reggie gets it because he’s wishing he could show the bass player a few things himself. Not in a douche way, but maybe, uh, how to keep time? At least?

He’s not a snob about music. He’ll listen to everything from hair metal to country to every song Whitney Houston ever releases. Still. He prefers it when people are actually good.

The other boy clearly feels the same.

The amp screeches, and the boy cringes. Reggie feels it down to his bones.

“Hey,” he says, when the decibels decrease just enough to be heard, and the boy turns wide eyes on him before relaxing back against the wall when he realizes he’s not about to be kicked out. 

“‘Sup?” he says, and it almost sounds cool. Like he’ll get there if he just practises a bit more.

“So, this is shit,” Reggie says, because it’s the only thing he knows they have in common. The curse word sounds foreign on his tongue, giving him a little more confidence. The boy throws his head back and laughs, and it’s far cooler than the affectation from before. Reggie smiles back.

“Totally,” the boys says. “I heard some guys set up a makeshift show in their basement a couple blocks away. Might be better?”

“Sweet,” Reggie says, and follows him back out, ducking past a big guy that may or may not be security. 

The night air feels cool against Reggie’s sweaty skin, and he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to style it the way the barber had. His mom hadn’t been impressed with him spending all his allowance on some fancy downtown hair cut when the girl down the road would do it for five bucks and a ride to the mall, but Reggie doesn’t care. He likes it. He kinda wants to dye it blue or purple or something, but there’s only so far he’s willing to push his parents.

“I’m Luke, by the way,” the boy says, and Reggie knew he’d forgotten something.

“Reggie,” he says, with a shrug.

Luke grins. “Cool name.”

It’s not, but Luke says it with an earnestness that maybe makes it seem like it is, for a minute.

They walk in silence for a while. Reggie has a reputation for talking too much. He’s not good with _awkward_ silences, is all. There’s a lot of awkward silences in his life.

Luke seems lost in thought, his fingers tapping against the top of his thigh, and Reggie’s not entirely sure he remembers he’s there until they reach a street corner he doesn’t recognize and Luke grins and tugs at the sleeve of Reggie’s jacket until the dull sounds of drums through sucky insulation hits them.

The music’s better, which is all that matters, and when Luke stays glued to his side, arms pressed together so the wave of kids in ripped denim and Doc Martins can’t separate them, it feels like that best kind of night. The magical sort.

Luke elbows his side, nodding at the lead singer.

“That’s gonna be me someday,” he says, like he’s speaking it into reality. Like the universe is listening.

Reggie believes it.

**~**

Reggie’s fifteen and stumbling his way through an awkward growth spurt.

Somehow he’s become known as a funny guy, and that’s made school easier. The same jerks who used to give him as tough a time as anyone now laugh at his comments in homeroom, and the girls he’s always wished he had the courage to ask out smile at him like they know his name.

He gets his first real girlfriend, too. Her name’s Jessie and she likes angry chick rock and wears Mariah Carey t-shirts. The first time they’d spoken, outside a 7-Eleven, surrounded by people Reggie sort of knew by proxy, he’d told her he liked her shirt. She’d laughed like he’d said something funny and started talking about irony and the churn of mainstream shitty pop music as if he was in on the joke. 

He hadn’t mentioned that he actually just really liked Mariah Carey.

“Of course you do, have you heard that range?” Luke says later, when Reggie tells him about it. “Music’s music, man. No point being pretentious about it.”

That’s one of the things Reggie really likes about Luke. He loves music the way Reggie does, all-encompassing and completely. Well, except country. Reggie’s trying to turn him around on that, though, and he’s pretty sure he’ll get there one day.

Jessie’s probably too cool for Reggie. She wears mood rings and chokers and doesn’t smoke but always smells a little like cigarettes anyway. She spends a lot of time doodling designs for the tattoos she wants as soon as she’s old enough to not need parental permission, and she’s not big on, like, holding hands or cuddling or whatever, but she makes out with Reggie under the bleachers and when they’re loitering around with their sort-of friends on a Friday night. 

She and Luke only meet once, and they’re both unfailingly polite in that way that makes it clear right away they don’t like each other. Afterwards, Jessie makes some pointed comments about pretty boys and fakes, and Luke says absolutely nothing until _after_ Reggie catches her making out with another one of their sort-of friends because Reggie is, apparently, too clingy. 

“Screw her,” Luke says, and it’s the first time he’s actively acknowledged her existence outside of humming noncommittally when Reggie’s talking. “She didn’t deserve you.”

“Okay,” Reggie says, because it’s nice of Luke to say. 

“Seriously,” Luke says, as if it’s really important to him that Reggie believes it. “Anyway, you won’t have time for her. We’re going to start a band.”

They’ve messed around with music for as long as they’ve known each other, but they’ve never called it anything except jamming. A band suggests a commitment. 

“Great,” Reggie says too quickly, and Luke slings an arm around his shoulders, smile so bright it’s blinding.

**~**

Luke’s parents are always nice to Reggie, but even if he didn’t know some of the details he’d be able to detect the tension sitting high under the surface.

“Come on,” Luke says as soon as his mom’s plied Reggie with juice and sandwiches and a smile that’s a little too polite. “We can eat upstairs.”

Luke’s room might be Reggie’s favorite place in the world. There’s band posters and spare guitar strings everywhere, and it always smells like the body spray he knows Luke’s aunt buys him every Christmas. The bed’s rarely made, and there’s clothes flung everywhere; Reggie’s mom would give him a disappointed look until he cleared up, but Luke doesn’t seem to care, flinging himself back on the mattress with a bounce, barely keeping his juice from spilling.

Reggie sits cross-legged next to him and eats his sandwich in a couple of bites.

When they’ve pushed their empty plates under the bed, Luke pulls out a notebook full of lyrics and chord progressions, and Reggie runs the pad of his finger over the spill of words in Luke’s jagged handwriting and pictures the way they’ll sound. Luke watches him closely, eyes glued to Reggie’s face, and that’s fine too. Luke always looks at him like that, like he’s really _seeing_ him. Reggie’s used to it.

“Wow,” he says when he can find the words, and Luke laughs, throwing himself back onto the pillows and kicking his legs into Reggie’s lap.

“Keep an eye out for anyone else that plays, okay?” Luke says, pushing at Reggie with his feet until Reggie lays back too. “We need the _best_.”

“‘Course,” Reggie says, ‘cause duh.

 _Duh_.

**~**

Reggie meets Alex outside the RadioShack on a Saturday morning. 

He’s wearing shitty headphones attached to a Walkman Reggie badly wants, and doesn’t seem to notice the crowd of girls a few stores down giggling madly as they stare his way.

Reggie waves awkwardly, hoping he’s got the right person, and Alex quickly pulls his headphones off, one side of his mouth curling up into an embarrassed grin.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry. I was in my own world. Reggie, right?”

“Yeah,” Reggie says, and nods towards the food court questioningly. He’d skipped breakfast, avoiding the remains of last night’s argument about his dad working late and his mom spending too much on groceries. Nothing new.

“So, uh, Jeff says you need a drummer?” Alex says when they’ve split the cost of a box of fries and coated them in cheap ketchup.

Reggie nods. He knows Jeff a little from the local scene, and when he’d casually mentioned it Jeff had immediately said he knew someone, kid their age, let him get back to them…

Two nights later he’d scrawled Alex’s number on the back of Reggie’s hand in permanent marker. Reggie’d made the call from the kitchen phone, asking for Alex in his best Sunday voice when a woman answered, and not even waiting ten seconds before he heard “Thanks, Mom, I got it,” in the background, like Alex was waiting for Reggie. Maybe he was. He’d seemed eager enough to meet up.

“You’d need to play for Luke,” Reggie says. “He’s got a family thing today, or he’d be here with bells on. You free this week?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, nodding eagerly. “Sure, man. Whenever.”

He grabs a couple more fries and doesn’t seem in a rush to disappear so Reggie suggests they check out the Sam Goody for new tapes.

Alex is the sort of effortlessly cool that Reggie and Luke strive to be. Hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt, he looks like California personified, all blonde hair and backwards baseball cap. Reggie bets he knows how to surf. 

He has a seriously broad taste in music, though, and when he starts singing along under his breath with the latest CeeCee Peniston song playing over the speaker system, Reggie likes him intensely. He sings along too, a little louder, and Alex blinks at him before smiling widely. Reggie’s pretty sure at least three girls in their direct vicinity swoon. 

“So?” Luke asks eagerly, when Reggie calls him later from the kitchen floor, back against the fridge, actively ignoring the pointed silence coming from the next room.

“Dude, he’s great,” Reggie says, and Luke whoops, then covers the mouthpiece to say something to whoever’s in the room with him. His mom if the muffled irritation is anything to go by. “He sings, too!”

“Awesome,” Luke says, focusing back in on the conversation at hand. “And, hey, I think I found a rhythm guitarist, did I say? Some guy in the grade above us. My music teacher recommended him.”

“We’re gonna be a band,” Reggie says, and can picture Luke’s smile down the line.

“We’re gonna be huge,” he says, and at moments like this Reggie can even believe it.

**~**

Luke and Alex hit it off right away. Reggie knows because Luke’s barely paused for breath in half an hour and Alex is still nodding along, listening intently.

Bobby’s…fine. Like, objectively he’s a really good musician, and that’s what they’re looking for, but he’s also quick to point out the year between them in comments about his weekend or the latest girl he’s hooking up with or the car he’s getting for his birthday. Still, he can play by ear and he seems to understand the sound they’re looking for.

If Luke’s happy, Reggie’s happy.

“You’re happy, right?” he asks when Alex finally has to leave, stating curfew and bus times with a wistful shrug. Reggie gets it; he never really wants to go home either.

They’re laying on Luke’s bedroom floor, legs propped over the end of the bed. Reggie’s foot’s starting to go to sleep but he doesn’t wanna move.

Luke hums instead of answering, and Reggie turns his head to watch him think about it. Luke’s hair’s grown longer, a strand falling across his eyes, and Reggie blows gently until it flutters away, not really thinking about it until Luke laughs.

“Dude,” he says, and Reggie can feel his cheeks heating up. It’s useless trying to hide it, though, so he just shrugs, leaning into the weirdness.

“Not my fault you won’t get a haircut,” he says, and Luke turns to look at him, lips still curved into a grin.

“Yeah, I’m happy,” he says. “Like, eighty-percent. Ninety some days.”

Reggie nods. He’s normally averaging out at about seventy himself. Except for, well—

Moments like this.

“What’s today?”

Luke props his head on his hand, and doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, a ninety-five, definitely.”

“That’s pretty good,” Reggie says, thinking about Alex and Bobby and the first run-through of a song Luke’s been working on for months. Thinks about Luke’s dreams and how grateful he is to be pulled along for the ride.

“Practically the best,” Luke says, barely more than a whisper. 

Somehow it feels like it’s meant just for him.

**~**

They’re supposed to be meeting up for pizza after school, but Reggie’s running late, waylaid by his English teacher about his slipping grade and then the two busses he needs to get overlapping until he’s lugging his backpack full of extra credit reading into the diner more than an hour late.

He’s half expecting the others not to still be there, ready to chalk the whole day up as a failure, but then he hears Luke’s laugh and it’s like everything shitty washes off him in one great, relieved sigh.

Bobby’s nowhere to be seen, but Luke and Alex are still sat in a booth by the wall, heads bent together as they continue to laugh at whatever’s set them off.

“Sorry,” he says, throwing his bag into an empty seat. “Sorry!”

“Hey,” Luke says, clearing their mess of plates to the side and waving to the waitress for another soda. “Thought you’d bailed on us.”

“God, no,” Reggie says. “The world just hates me.”

“That sucks, man,” Alex says, offering him a leftover slice of pepperoni. Reggie takes it gratefully, offering the waitress a tomato stained grin when she slides a Coke in front of him.

“Bobby leave already?”

“Yeah,” Luke says with a shrug. “Had other plans.”

Reggie cringes. So much for band bonding. Still, it could be worse. Luke and Alex could have left too.

The hang out as much as they can, but between different schools and family, it’s tough enough to find time for practice let alone socializing. Reggie and Luke hang out the most, because they’ve known each other the longest and because they live the closest, but Reggie always feels a bit guilty, like they’re leaving Alex out. Bobby doesn’t seem to care too much one way or the other, but Alex gets this smile sometimes, the sad sort that Reggie recognizes from Luke and his mom and his own face in the mirror. 

“We should get a studio,” he says, surprising even himself, and Luke snorts.

“Oh, sure. With all that money we have.”

“No,” Alex says, pointing at Reggie, “no, he has a point. I bet there’s someone with a garage or something they’ll let us use. It’ll get our parents off our case at least.”

He’s not wrong. Reggie’s dad’s started huffing whenever he walks into a room to find them all, and Luke’s parents have never been keen on the idea. Reggie’s only met Alex’s parents a handful of times but even he knows they’re not really the sort to appreciate a house full of teenage boys with amps.

“Yeah,” Luke says, like they’re being deliberately slow, “but I repeat: with what money?”

“Look,” Reggie says, because he’s warming up to the idea more and more. Somewhere just for them, somewhere they can play as much as they want and not have to worry about getting into trouble. Somewhere safe. Somewhere Luke can be ninety-five percent happy all the time. “Leave it with me.”

Luke rolls his eyes, not believing him, but Alex shoots him a smile so it’s okay.

**~**

He spends the night looking over transport routes and the map he finds in the passenger door of his dad’s car, trying to find a vaguely central location. There’s a cute suburban district that’s close to Alex and would only take one bus for Luke and Reggie, _maybe_ two.

Bobby has a car now, so Reggie figures he doesn’t count.

That weekend he dresses in his least ripped jeans and the sweater his grandma bought him for his last birthday he hasn’t even removed the tag from, and sets off. It’s honestly a long shot, and he’s not sure why he even thinks it’ll work except—

Well.

It _has_ to.

He’s promised.

There’s a lot of nice houses in the area, set back from the road with picket fences and actual greenery, and Reggie whistles low under his breath and starts walking, hoping no one mistakes him for a prowler.

Almost everyone has a garage, but most of them are attached to the house, and that’s not gonna work any better than their own places. Of the few with outbuildings, most of them show signs of young families that won’t want teenage boys around.

It takes him two weekends of wandering the neighbourhood before he meets Edna, huffing as she tries to balance too many bags of groceries.

“Here,” he says, jogging across the road. “Let me help.”

Edna eyes him over the top of her glasses, before smiling. “Good boy. Up there, if you don’t mind.”

It turns out that Edna lives alone now that her husband’s passed away and her kids and grandkids are scattered around the country, and she refuses to move into a retirement home whilst her legs are still working.

“You’re not from around here,” she says, passing Reggie a glass of milk and a cookie. “I know everyone around here, and unless your Carol’s lad back from boarding school then you’re not local.”

“No, ma’am,” he says, and smiles his very best smile, the sort that always seems to disarm people for a moment. Even Edna seems taken aback. “I’m just looking for a place that me and my friends can use to practise a few days a week.”

Edna frowns and eats a cookie in two bites, spilling crumbs over the counter.

“Practise what?” she asks, and Reggie blinks innocently.

“Music,” he says, vaguely, and Edna hums.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” she says, which is…obvious. Reggie just smiles. “Oh, shush, don’t. What I mean is it’s just me, and I could use some chores done every now and then. When the grass needs cutting or the neighbor’s cat gets into my geraniums again. Some shopping, that sort of thing.”

“O…kay?” Reggie says, and wonders if he’s just accidentally walked himself into a full time job.

“There’s a garage out back. Used to be where my Keith kept his model cars. You and your friends help me out every now and then and you can use it.”

Reggie stares.

“What…I mean…Are you sure? I should say the music we play isn’t exactly _quiet_ …”

Edna grins and it’s so mischievous Reggie can practically see the age fall off her.

“Well then,” she says, “it’s a good thing I’m going deaf.”

**~**

“Reg,” Luke says, staring around the garage with awed eyes. “Holy crap.”

“Edna says we can use it whenever we want and not to worry about the neighbors ‘cause Carol stole her pumpkin pie recipe last halloween so she deserves it. Or something.” 

He still can’t believe he pulled it off. Mostly because he _didn’t_ , Edna had just appeared like a grouchy old guardian angel with a penchant for drama and a bit of a lonely streak. Plus, between her bingo game, the romance book club at the library, and the church choir she’s apparently hardly ever around, which works out _great_.

“Man,” Alex says, bringing in the last of his drum cases from Bobby’s car, “this is so cool.”

He high fives Reggie as he passes, and Reggie grins, rocking back on his heels and soaking in the praise.

It _is_ cool.

It also kinda feels like the start of something _big_.

**~**

Alex comes out to him about five minutes before Reggie becomes his first milestone kiss and two days before he starts dating Luke.

Not that Reggie’s meant to know about that.

They’re in Alex’s backyard, stretched out under the giant oak that marks the farthest point from the house, and it’s starting to get dark but between the porch lamp and the light pollution it’ll still be a while before they have to go in.

Reggie’s uncle’s in town so he’s not in a rush to get home; his uncle’s fine by himself, but when he and Reggie’s dad get together they egg each other on until they’re a bottle of whiskey deep and making digs at his mom just sly enough to be cruel. His mom responds by vacuuming at seven a.m., and the shouting starts all over again.

History says it’s best to just steer clear.

Alex has been acting weird for a few days now, ducking out of practice early and never looking anyone straight in the eye, and Reggie’s worry leads him to trek across town with a case of the shittiest soda he could find and enough sherbet dip to make their mouths numb. It’s a terrible idea and Alex rolls his eyes and joins in anyway because he’s great like that.

“Can I tell you something?” Alex says eventually, when they’ve been staring at the night sky for long enough that Reggie’s beginning to feel like his body doesn’t really exist. “A secret?”

His voice is barely above a whisper, and Reggie turns his head, leaning closer.

“‘Course.”

Alex’s hands are clenched at his side, and Reggie’s heart sinks a little. Wonders if it’s bad.

“I…” Alex says, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m gay.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Reggie says, letting out the breath he’s been holding. “Okay.”

Alex turns to look at him. “Okay?”

“Sure,” Reggie says. “But thanks for telling me.”

Alex laughs, something small and desperate and a little hysterical, and Reggie wraps his fingers around Alex’s wrist.

“So,” Reggie says, when Alex’s breathing has evened out and he’s able to look him in the eye again. “Is there a boy you _like_ like?”

“Shut up,” Alex says, cheeks flushed. “I’ve never even kissed a boy. It’s so stupid.”

Reggie hits his shoulders. “It’s not stupid. Do you _want_ to?”

“Yeah,” Alex says. “It just…it just feels like this massive deal, y’know? Like, I’ve kissed a couple of girls before and it was fine. I was mostly worried my breath smelt or something. But this just feels like so much _pressure_.”

Reggie hums in agreement and thinks about the girls he’s kissed. Some of them were easy, some of them made his stomach feel like it was doing somersaults.

“Okay,” he says, pressing up on his elbow. “So kiss me.”

Alex freezes, blinking up at him. “…What?”

Reggie grins. “Kiss _me_. I mean, I know I’m, like, super hot and everything but it won’t be a big deal. And then the pressure will be off, right? Kissed a boy, check.” 

“Reg,” Alex says, and Reggie wonders why he sounds a little awed. It’s just another way of helping a friend.

Besides, Reggie likes kissing.

He waits, though; maybe Alex is saving this for a _specific_ guy, or maybe he just doesn’t think he can bring himself to kiss Reggie, and that’s fine. Reggie’s not offended.

“You sure?” Alex asks, decision made, and Reggie smiles and leans down, pressing their lips together. 

It’s nice. Easy. Alex stays still for a long moment and then he wraps a hand in Reggie’s hair and kisses back, and that’s even nicer. Alex is a good kisser. Reggie’s really not sure what he was so worried about.

When he pulls back for breath, he leans his forehead against Alex’s until they’re staring at each other with crossed eyes, and then Reggie’s laughing and Alex is laughing, and it’s easy to just roll back onto the grass, sides pressed together as they shake apart.

“God,” Alex says, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Better?” Reggie asks, and Alex nods.

“That was a pretty great kiss, Reginald.”

“What can I say,” Reggie says, and isn’t embarrassed at the flush of pride that spreads over his cheeks. “I’m a catch.”

“Yeah you are,” Alex says, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “A pretty great friend, too.”

And, well.

That feels even better than kissing.

**~**

The problem is, Reggie knows them both too _well_.

Also, he’s not an idiot.

Reggie knows he speaks before he thinks, knows he can be a little slow to pick up on social cues sometimes, but that doesn’t make him stupid. He just tries to see the best in the world even when the world is pretty shitty, and somehow his optimism gets mistaken for naivety. 

He guesses he thought Luke and Alex knew better.

That probably isn’t fair; it’s not any of his business who they date. If they like each other then that’s great! Of course it is! They’re Reggie’s favorite people in the whole world, he wants them to be happy more than anything, and if they can do that for each other then….

Yeah.

Reggie’s happy for them.

He _is_. 

(Except—

Okay. 

He _wants_ to be.

He’ll get there.)

The worst part is that they won’t tell him. Alex keeps things close to his chest, sure, but Reggie thought they were past that. Thought they’d shattered that barrier under the oak tree between secrets and kisses.

He guesses Alex really did _like_ like someone.

And _Luke_ —

Reggie can’t think about that for too long without feeling like his head’s going to explode.

So they don’t say anything and he doesn’t say anything, and if it means the three of them spend less time together then that’s the cost. He hangs out with Bobby instead, chatting up cute girls at the mall who like the way Bobby smirks at them when he says he’s in a band, and trying not to feel too bad when they all look a little disappointed by Reggie’s awkward wave and cheerful grin, like he should be moody and distant just because he plays bass.

Bobby doesn’t seem to mind him hanging around, introducing him to a couple of his buddies and mostly just accepting his presence, and Reggie’s grateful for that at least. He doesn’t want to push it though; the last thing he needs is Bobby quitting because Reggie’s _too much_ or something. 

He goes back to his old scene instead, slipping in the back of warehouse gigs and basement jam sessions, remembering how much he loves it and feeling like crap every time he looks to his side to say something and realizes Luke’s not there.

It’s been almost a year and Reggie’s finally “grown into his face” according to his mom. He doesn’t know what that means until he runs into Jessie and she does a double take, eyes roving over his leather jacket and slicked back hair.

“Hey,” she says, and okay, maybe the interest in her voice is enough to brighten Reggie’s night, just a little.

“Hey,” he says, and thinks about Luke saying ‘you deserve better’, about keeping secrets. “How’ve you been?”

There’s chunky pink highlights in her hair now and she’s had her nose pierced. It’s a good look on her. Better when she smiles, leaning close.

“Okay,” she says. “Y’know.”

He doesn’t but he nods anyway.

“Wanna get out of here?” she asks, and Reggie’s agreeing before he even thinks about it. 

It’s a terrible idea, but at least it’s a familiar one.

**~**

“What’s she doing here?” Luke asks, nose scrunched up and eyes hard. Alex just looks confused.

Reggie glances over at the studio entrance where Jessie’s leaning against the open door, chatting with the girl Bobby brought by.

“Oh, I said it was cool if she wanted to come listen,” Reggie says. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and they’ve mostly just spent the time walking around or chilling in Jessie’s den watching MTV. The first time ‘round Reggie had been in awe of her; now he’s mostly just happy for the company. By the noticeable parental absence, he figures it’s probably the same for her.

“Wait, are you guys back together?” Luke asks in a sharp whisper, and Alex puts a hand on his shoulder, probably in an attempt to calm him down. Reggie blinks, but it’s not really in surprise.

If he’s being completely honest, he knew exactly how Luke would react.

(Okay.

Maybe he was counting on it.

So he can be a jerk sometimes too, sue him.)

“Sorta?” Reggie says with a shrug, and doesn’t point out that Alex’s hand is still on Luke’s shoulder. “We’re hanging out.”

Luke opens and shuts his mouth a few times, like he’s lost for words, before eventually shaking his head, standing upright. 

“We have a show next weekend,” he says calmly. “A super important one, so we need to practice.”

“Okay,” Reggie says, and doesn’t mention that he’s not stopping them. Alex shoots him a look like he can read his mind, and Reggie offers him a guilty smile. Alex just rolls his eyes good-naturedly and heads for his kit, waving Bobby over.

It’s not that Reggie _means_ for him and Luke to be in a fight. Reggie _hates_ fights, especially the passive aggressive ones that simmer until the shouting starts. 

It’s just—

He’s _hurt_.

Not that Luke and Alex are dating, though he doesn’t want to assess those feelings too closely either, but because Luke apparently doesn’t _trust him_.

Luke’s been his whole world since they were fourteen and it just…really, really sucks.

They play until it’s long gone dark, their fingers aching, and the girls calling for lifts home when it becomes clear the guys aren’t going to be stopping any time soon.

“Okay,” Alex says, shaking out his wrists with a wince. “I’m calling time.”

“Thank God,” Bobby says and reaches for his case. Reggie silently agrees.

“Hey,” Luke says, giving in and grabbing his sweater, “I need to take my guitar home, restring. Can I get a ride?”

Bobby agrees easily, and then it’s just Reggie and Alex, packing away long past curfew, everything a little too still, a little too quiet.

“We should have told you,” Alex says, and Reggie freezes, almost dropping his bass. “It was a shitty thing to do, keeping it quiet, and I could make up a hundred excuses about being worried about people finding out, or just seeing where it goes, but. Well. You’re not people. You’re Reggie. So, I’m…I’m really freaking sorry man. We should have told you.”

When he turns around, the look on Alex’s face makes his heart hurt.

“How’d you know?” he asks, “That _I_ knew, I mean?”

Alex snorts, a little of the nervous guilt fading. “You mean besides the fact you’re shoving your ex in Luke’s face? Could be the fact that you’re barely around, could be that you’ve stopped entering rooms without knocking. Could be that you’ve barely been able to look either of us in the eye in weeks.”

Which, _fair_.

“Sorry,” Reggie says, because he honestly hadn’t been trying to make Alex feel bad.

“Don’t be,” Alex says, reaching out wrap an arm around Reggie’s shoulders. “ _I’m_ sorry. I just dumped all this personal stuff on you and then…well.”

“No,” Reggie says, because it’s important Alex knows he’s not upset about that. “No, dude, I’m _glad_ you told me. Super glad! And, like, yeah it sucks you didn’t tell me you were dating, but. I’m happy for you.”

Alex stares at him for a long moment, and when he smiles it doesn’t look quite right. Reggie gets the feeling he’s said something wrong.

“Uh huh,” Alex says, and hugs Reggie for real. Reggie hugs him back and if he shoves his nose into the curve of Alex’s neck and doesn’t let go for way too long then Alex doesn’t call him on it.

“Come on,” Alex says after a while. “My parents are on some retreat thing, you can crash at mine. I get the feeling we’re gonna need all the rest we can get before this gig.”

“Okay,” Reggie says, and for the first time in a while feels like it really might be.

**~**

Things are better after that. Like, _a lot_ better. Alex calls Reggie most evenings, to the point his dad’s started rolling his eyes on cue, but it’s not like he can complain when he’s not paying for the call so Reggie just hops up on the kitchen counter, eating his way through a box of crackers whilst he and Alex talk about everything and nothing.

He knows Alex isn’t having the best time of it; his own family’s as much of a mess as Reggie’s, even if it is in a quieter way. He knows Alex wants to come out to them, won’t feel totally at ease in his own skin until he does, but he also knows Alex isn’t expecting it to go super well. It makes Reggie want to break things.

It’s nice, though, getting through the school day and knowing he can relate every detail to Alex at the end of it. Alex doesn’t even seem to mind when Reggie goes off on tangents, his mouth speeding ahead of his mind.

“What happened to that Jessie girl?” Alex asks one evening, interrupting his musings about cafeteria food, and Reggie groans.

“She didn’t like our music,” Reggie admits, rummaging at the bottom of the box for cracker crumbs. “That time she came by? She said it was _juvenile_.”

“Reginald,” Alex says seriously, “as your best friend I have to tell you, you have _terrible_ taste in women.”

“Are we best friends?” Reggie asks before he can help it, feeling the happy flush in his cheeks. Alex just laughs.

“Duh,” he says. “Reg, I don’t just kiss _any_ boy under the moonlight, where have you _been?_ ”

Reggie drops the empty box in the trash and runs his hand across the back of his neck. “I dunno,” he says, because in hindsight it’s obvious.

It’s just—

Reggie knows he can be too much for a lot of people.

“I guess I thought Luke…” he says, and Alex sighs fondly.

“ _Obviously_ Luke,” he says. “It’s the three of us against the world, yeah?”

“Cool,” Reggie says, and means about a million sappier things.

Luke doesn’t call as much as Alex, but he does show up on Reggie’s front porch a lot, and that’s even better.

The first time Reggie comes home to find him sat on the front step, scuffing the toes of his sneakers against cement, and when he spots Reggie he holds out a box of donuts with wide puppy-dog eyes and Reggie knows Luke too well not to understand it for the apology it is. 

“Sprinkles?” Reggie asks, folding his arms across his chest, and Luke nods fervently.

“The brightly colored ones. _And_ pink icing.”

And, well.

Reggie’s only so strong.

“Fine,” he says. “But I pick the music, and you don’t get to complain when it’s country.”

Luke pulls a face but keeps quiet, and Reggie knocks their shoulders together as he digs out his keys. 

“Hey,” Luke says, when they’re settled in Reggie’s room, Randy Travis playing quietly in the background. He’s sat on the edge of Reggie’s bed, and it’s weird seeing him be careful. 

“Hi,” Reggie says, and figures ‘screw it’, tackling Luke until they’re both tangled in the sheets and Reggie has a bruise already forming on the side of his ribs.

“Ouch,” Luke says, but there’s laughter under the surface and his hair’s a mess so Reggie takes it as a win.

“Shh,” Reggie says, “we’re listening to the music.”

“ _You’re_ music,” Luke says, which makes absolutely no sense so Reggie hits him in the face with a pillow. “Fine! Fine! Shutting up.”

They stay like that for a while, sprawled awkwardly over the mattress, and it feels like old times. Reggie’s so relieved he could cry.

“I’m not really mad at you anymore,” he says eventually, “but no more secrets, okay?”

Luke looks at him from behind messy bangs for a long moment, foot still pressed against Reggie’s calf, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“No more secrets,” he says eventually.

Reggie mostly believes him.

**~**

Every important show leads to more important shows, and Reggie’s not sure how it happened but they’re actually _going_ somewhere.

They spend more and more time at the studio, dragging in a couch Luke finds on the side of the road and accidentally leaving clothes there so many times Alex sighs and makes a place for them up on the mezzanine. It’s so much better than the crappy basements Reggie’s spent his teenage years in that he can’t quite believe it’s real. 

He’s glad it is though.

Alex comes out to his parents and it goes as badly as Reggie knew he was worried it would. They don’t kick him out but they don’t talk about it either, don’t talk to Alex about _anything_ that’s not ‘pass the salt’, and Reggie wants to scream at them until he’s blue in the face.

The studio becomes a sanctuary, somewhere they can crash when home doesn’t feel like a real place. Edna doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, and Reggie makes sure he slips a few extra treats in with the grocery runs he does for her in thanks. 

Whilst their home lives slowly begin to crack, the band soars. Small gigs become better ones, three a.m. times become ten p.m., and people are starting to really _listen_. They put all their savings together and hire out a studio, skipping school to record a demo that they can actually _hold_.

Luke permanently looks like he’s waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under him.

With all that, Reggie thinks he can be excused for not noticing that Luke and Alex have broken up.

“Wait, what?” Reggie says when Alex mentions that Luke had apparently gotten some girl’s number at the mall.

“What what?” Alex asks with a small frown from where he’s putting a potted plant under the studio window.

“Aren’t you and Luke—”

“Oh, yeah, no,” Alex says, smiling when he’s happy with the plant placement. “I mean, it was nice and everything, but to be honest we’re better off just being _us_ , you know?”

Reggie has absolutely no idea.

Alex must see it on his face because he continues.

“Look, honestly? You and Luke are everything to me. You’re my best friends, and my family, and…Dude. You’re my missing puzzle pieces, okay?” He picks up a drumstick, threading it through his fingers whilst Reggie resists the overwhelming urge to hug him. “Luke is talented and awesome and he drives me crazy. The music is everything to him and I totally get it, I want the same things he does for the band, but. As a _couple_? Let’s be honest, in the long run I’d probably kill him.”

It startles a laugh out of Reggie, and Alex grins, like that’s what he was going for.

“How’s Luke handling that?” he asks, and Alex’s smile drops into something softer.

“Trust me, Luke’s good,” he says, and Reggie doesn’t ask how he’s so sure. Figures it’s none of his business.

He reckons a hug’s definitely in order, but then there’s the sound of running feet and the crash of the studio doors opening carelessly, and Luke’s diving at them, throwing his arms out until the three of them are stumbling backwards, barely missing Alex’s drum kit.

“Holy Shit! We got the Orpheum!” Luke shouts, voice cracking, and Reggie catches Alex’s wide eyes. “We got the _Orpheum_.”

“Holy shit!” Alex says, gripping the back of Luke’s jacket tightly and trying to keep them upright.

And, well, yeah.

_Holy shit._

**~**

They ride the high of booking the Orpheum for two weeks before it comes crashing down around their ears in the shape of Luke’s things stuffed in a backpack and the saddest song Reggie’s ever heard echoing between the studio walls.

He tries to come up with ways to help, wonders if he should go by and try speaking to the Pattersons, but then Luke’s there, swinging his legs on Reggie’s porch or talking him into crashing at the studio, and that’s more important.

If he can’t do anything else, he can make Luke smile, so he stays and he plays and goes home less and less. 

_The_ gig’s still two months away, so in the meantime they play other shows, anything they can as they test out their playlist and flog their demo, building up as much of a buzz as possible to draw the necessary crowd.

It’s not just Luke that knows how important this show is. Alex is walking ‘round on a caffeine high, repeating riffs until his fingers crack, and even Bobby’s excited now it looks like joining the band may finally pay off. He’s always on time for practice and he never brings random girls around anymore. 

Reggie puts his energy into getting shitty t-shirts made, giving up on the glitter pen when he ruins his comforter and spending his super-emergency-only Christmas money saving fund on getting some equally shitty but less glittery shirts made at a place downtown. The rest of his time’s spent trying to get Luke to take a break; luckily Alex tag-teams him on that one ‘cause Luke really doesn’t want to play ball. It’s a win if they can get him to remember to eat, and his nervous energy is even starting to rub off on Reggie. 

“Okay,” Reggie says eventually, when Luke’s rewritten three songs and paced a hole in the studio floor. “Come on.”

“What?” Luke says distractedly, and doesn’t even look up until Reggie’s tugged him outside by the hem of his shirt. “Reg, no, I’ve gotta--”

“Nope,” Reggie says. “You’re no good like this. We’re going to get some gross, cheap food, and walk around until you’re ready to _sleep_.”

He’s expecting more of a fight, honestly, but Luke just sighs and follows him to the convenience store three blocks away where they buy day-old bagels and cream cheese that’s _probably_ okay, and eat them sat on the bike rack outside, making a mess of their hands and letting the night air cool away a little of their stress.

“Hey,” Luke says, when they’ve thrown their napkins in the trash, fiddling with the chain of someone’s shitty BMX.

“Hey,” Reggie says back, and Luke grins, resting his cheek against the cold metal of the bike rack.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Luke asks, and Reggie wonders how he could ever believe he’d _forget_. That night changed Reggie’s whole life.

“Yeah,” he says instead because the truth feels a little too big right now.

“I noticed the calluses on your fingers when we were walking,” Luke says, “and I knew right then we’d end up here someday.”

“You didn’t even know what I played,” Reggie says, off-balance.

Luke shrugs. “Didn’t matter. I just knew the universe got us to meet for a reason.”

“ _God_ ,” Reggie says, and it’s a little desperate, a little too honest, and he doesn’t know what to _do_ with it. 

He remembers being fourteen and meeting a boy who made the night feel like magic.

“Stay tonight?” Luke asks, and Reggie nods, already planning on it. Sometimes his mom asks where he’s going, but mostly not.

Luke still feels like magic, it’s just bigger now.

**~**

It’s crazy how fast two months can go by.

One minute they’re talking Luke out of changing the setlist _again_ , and the next they’re setting up their instruments and getting ready for soundcheck.

At least five people have stopped Reggie at school this week and excitedly told him they’ve got tickets, and Reggie didn’t even realize they knew who _he_ was let alone his band. 

“Cool,” he’s said every time, shooting them some hybrid version of a finger gun and a salute, “tell your friends!”

There’s an energy backstage that Reggie can’t quantify. Like they’re balancing on the edge of a cliff. He wants to scream and throw up and laugh all at once.

“We’ve got this,” Luke says to them all with calm intensity, looking bright and ready and _alive_. 

‘That’s going to be me someday,’ Reggie remembers and thinks ‘ _you’ve waited such a long time’_.

**~**

They don’t get to play the show.

Reggie remembers the sirens, the feeling of the paramedics hands, and then—

Nothing.

**~**

It’s easier not to think about it.

Whatever time they spent in the dark, it’s at least been enough to dull the panic Reggie knows they should be feeling.

Instead there’s just Luke and Alex, and now Julie.

Julie, who’s sharp and talented and shines every time she enters a room. Reggie likes her immediately.

That they can still play?

Well.

That feels like the glue keeping them from shattering apart.

**~**

It’s possible that Luke and Julie are soulmates.

Reggie can’t even begin to untangle the wavelength they seem to share, just knows it makes Luke burn with the same fire that’s always made him _him_.

There’s Willie, too, and Reggie likes him as well, if only for the way he makes Alex blush, ducking his head on a smile that Reggie hasn’t seen him wear before.

So, yeah. Julie’s a brand of magic all on her own, and Willie makes Alex _happy_ , and Reggie wouldn’t trade either of those things for anything, but it does mean he’s alone a lot.

Not _tons_ , never for too long, but…

Enough.

He wanders around the house, spending time with Ray and Carlos and trying not to think too much about Edna. Her geraniums are still in the garden, and he makes a note to ask Julie to tend to them a little more diligently. It feels like the least he can do.

Ray is an excellent dad. Like, the _best_.

It’s not that his own dad had been _bad_ , just…distant. Uninterested. They lived under the same roof and he tried, Reggie knows he did, knows his mom did too, but they weren’t close. Luke wasn’t wrong when he said they were one fight away from a divorce, and part of him wonders if they ever did. Most of him would rather not know.

Ray, though. Ray’s supportive and interested and loves his kid with an intensity that’s almost blinding, and Reggie can’t help but want to be around that. 

Maybe it’s his post-death coping mechanism, but whatever.

It works.

**~**

“I have chemistry with everybody that I sing with,” Luke says, and then sets out to prove it by staring into Reggie’s eyes.

It’s…

Well.

It proves Luke’s point, at any rate.

“You okay?” Alex asks, later, when Luke’s set off to show Julie what they’ve been working on.

“Huh?” Reggie asks. His bass is getting close to needing to be re-stringed, and he’s not sure where he left the spares.

Alex sighs, and it’s so pointed that Reggie finally looks up. He kinda wishes he hadn’t when he sees the look on Alex’s face.

“You’re a little flushed there,” he says, laugh tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Reggie throws a drumstick at him.

“Okay, okay, I take it back,” Alex says, grinning as he ducks away from the second one. “You’re cool as a cucumber.”

“Damn right,” Reggie says, even as Alex disappears.

He _is._

If he can still feel the press of Luke’s fingertips against his lips then, well.

That’s entirely coincidental.

_(God.)_

**~**

This is worse than dying.

The thought that there might be a place Luke and Alex _aren’t—_

A small, niggling, selfish part of him says they should take Caleb’s deal. At least they’ll still have music. At least they’ll still have _each other._

But then he looks at Julie. 

It’s not a happy answer but it’s the right one.

**~**

“Julie showed my parents Unsaid Emily,” Luke says, appearing out of nowhere to join Reggie on the living room floor. Ray and Carlos have fallen asleep watching some reality show, the sound turned low, and if Reggie stays here long enough he thinks maybe it’ll feel like he was part of their night.

Luke’s eyes are red and swollen, and Reggie wraps an arm around him, tugging him close instead of replying. Luke buries his face in the curve of Reggie’s neck, and they stay that way until the TV turns itself off and Ray wakes up long enough to carry Carlos upstairs.

Reggie hopes Julie knows what a massive, amazing thing she’s done.

She probably does. She’s observant like that.

“I don’t remember what it was like when you weren’t there,” Luke says. His hands are still clenched in the fabric of Reggie’s shirt and the neck’s all pulled out of shape. 

Reggie knows what he means.

All he remembers about dying is the shock of pain, and after that nothing except the dark and knowing that Luke and Alex were right there too.

 _Even in death_ , and all that.

“I don’t wanna remember,” he says, because that’s true too. 

He had a whole childhood before he met a boy in a ripped Cure shirt, but none of it mattered. Nothing in the _world_ mattered before that.

“I hate this,” Luke says, and yeah.

Nothing’s ever hurt this much.

**~**

(Somewhere, in the back of his mind, sixteen year old Reggie, alive and seventy-percent happy, had thought there were two perfect ways for his life to go.

Version One: They make it big, record number one hit after number one hit and tour the world playing music until they’re old and tired and their hands give up on them.

Version Two: They don’t. They try and they fail and they go to college (Alex) or music school (Luke) or learn a trade (Reggie), and life moves on but doesn’t tear them apart. They get an apartment and nine-to-five jobs, and with it they get to be young and stupid and bored. They fall in and out of love, and maybe Alex meets the right guy and moves into a new flat a stones throw away, but never farther. There’s Friday night dinners and drunken nights out, and _life_ , predictable and hard and brilliant.

In both versions it’s always the three of them forever (always Luke and Reggie forever).

He supposes the universe heard that part at least.)

**~**

They get to play the Orpheum, and the look on Julie’s face?

 _So_ worth everything after.

**~**

“How?” Alex asks, later.

After the show, after the pain, after Julie holding them all close and the world coming back into focus. 

“I have _no idea_ ,” Julie says, unable to stop touching them. A hand on Luke’s arm, a ruffle of Alex’s hair, wiping the tears from Reggie’s cheeks.

Luke mostly just looks stunned, staring at the spot on his wrist Caleb’s stamp no longer sits.

“Maybe…” Reggie starts, breaking off to swallow when his throat still feels too tight. “Caleb can’t own our souls if Julie does, right?”

It might be the sappiest thing he’s ever said, but he’s been _thinking_ about it and it makes _sense_. They chose Julie and Julie chose them, and call it cheesy but Reggie’s a firm believer that love can change the whole world.

Julie looks momentarily horrified. “I don’t want to own your souls!”

Luke gets it, though. “No, not like that. Not like _him_. You didn’t _take_ them, we gave them to you.”

“Oh,” Julie says, with quiet awe, and Reggie pulls her close as Alex brushes her hair out of her eyes.

“If that’s true,” Alex says after a while, “then that means maybe Willie…”

“We’ll find a way, dude,” Luke says, and Reggie and Julie nod enthusiastically because _duh_.

At this point it kinda feels like they’re invincible.

**~**

Ray makes pancakes, filling the kitchen with congratulatory flowers and singing Julie’s praises, and the boys sit on the counter and pull faces at her until she bursts out laughing, letting her dad think it’s leftover adrenaline.

Later, Luke and Julie disappear, and Reggie sits with Alex whilst he brainstorms ways to set Willie free. So far they mostly consist of causing Caleb bodily harm, which Reggie has no problem with except for how he’s pretty certain it won’t do anything except piss him off.

“Ugh,” Alex says when he’s done venting. “Seriously, though, I should go find Willie. Let him know we’re okay.”

“Good luck, dude,” Reggie says, and Alex hugs him close, like now they’ve started doing it he can’t stop, and Reggie clings back, just as touch-starved and happy and _relieved_.

He finds his bass and plucks at the strings until a song starts to form in his mind, something small and silly and with enough of a country twang to annoy Luke.

“That sounds good,” Luke says, and Reggie wonders if he wished for him, like with their guitars.

“It’ll sound even better on the banjo,” he says, putting his bass carefully aside, and Luke snorts, sitting down next to him against the studio wall. “How’s Julie?”

“Good,” Luke says with a soft smile. “Overwhelmed. Happy. Tired. All of the above. Flynn and her are having a sleepover so we’ve been firmly instructed to stay out of her room.”

Reggie pulls a sad face. “Think they’ll paint my nails if I ask nicely?”

“Oh definitely.”

They sit in silence for a while, and Reggie expects ‘all of the above’ applies across the board.

“So,” he says eventually, “are you and Julie…?”

Luke blinks at him. “Are we what?”

Reggie just rolls his eyes, and Luke laughs under his breath. 

“Nah,” he says, giving in. “We’re… _something_. Cohorts, maybe. Partners in musical genius, _definitely_. She _gets_ it, y’know? But no. I like what we have exactly as it is.”

Reggie’s honestly surprised. He’d kinda figured they’d spent the afternoon holding hands and blushing or something. 

“She’s okay with that?” he asks, and wonders if they need to do an ice cream hit and run on the nearest grocery store.

“Yeah,” Luke says, smile soft. “She’s fine. We talked everything out.”

“Oh,” Reggie says and doesn’t know what _everything_ means. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, and presses their shoulders together. “Show me that song, from before?”

“Okay,” Reggie says and reaches for his bass.

**~**

Life (or not) goes back to normal. The _new_ normal anyway. They rehearse and show up at Julie’s school to distract her and spend nights wandering around the L.A. streets looking for great music.

Alex spends more time with Willie, sneaking around wherever Caleb won’t find them, and Reggie thinks they’ll need to come up with something serious soon, a _real_ plan, but for now Alex is happy and no one wants to burst that bubble. 

When Alex ghosts into the studio one night with a blush spreading down his neck, Reggie knows exactly what it means.

“Woo!” he says, laughing, and he’s sure Alex would be glaring at him if he wasn’t so giddy. “Alex got _kissed_.”

“Reggie!” Julie says, smacking him on the arm. “Ignore him Alex.”

Alex waves her off, and then breaks into the biggest grin, resting his hands on his knees.

“See?” Reggie says. “Totally knew it! He’s got his first kiss face on!”

Julie rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“…How do you know what Alex’s first kiss face looks like?” Luke asks, and Alex and Reggie both freeze.

Julie laughs until she notices the vibe and her mouth falls slack. “No. Way.”

“Um,” Reggie says, staring at Alex.

Alex takes a deep breath. “Okay, so maybe — _maybe_ — Reginald was my first kiss with a guy.”

“It was very romantic,” Reggie says, trying not to laugh. He hadn’t expected Alex to outright say it, was waiting for the obvious denial until it was ripped out of them, but apparently Happy Alex just doesn’t care anymore, and honestly that’s pretty funny. “Under the stars.”

Alex deliberately goes cross-eyed and Reggie snorts. 

Julie looks like she’s dying to ask for the details, and Reggie’s about to tell her what actually went down when he notices Luke, stood stock still and expressionless.

“Right,” he says and ghosts out.

The other three are left staring at the spot where he’d been.

“Uh…” Reggie says, turning to share his confusion with the others, only to find Julie looking a little sad, and Alex looking like he understands something Reggie doesn’t.

“You’d better go after him,” Alex says, which isn’t what Reggie’s expecting. If anything, he’s thinking _Alex_ should, wonders if this is residual feelings left over from the time Luke and Alex dated, that Luke’s upset Alex had kissed Reggie first.

Which is stupid.

“Reggie, go,” Julie says, so he does.

**~**

He finds Luke sat on the steps outside the bike shop that used to be Reggie’s house, watching the people on the beach, arms wrapped around his chest and sleeves of the flannel shirt he’s wearing pulled over his hands.

Reggie’s pretty sure it’s _his_ shirt, come to think of it.

“Hi,” he says, and Luke bites at his lip and doesn’t look at him.

“Hey.”

Reggie sighs and sits next to him, pressed close, and Luke doesn’t move so it’s probably okay.

“I didn’t know Alex liked you when it happened,” Reggie says, because he needs Luke to know he wasn’t trying to get in the way of anything. Would _never_. “He was just nervous about his first kiss with a guy, and I was there.”

Luke stays silent.

“I promise!” Reggie continues, worried now that maybe he’s really messed up. “And I know we said no secrets, but it wasn’t mine to tell, and then I figured you _knew_ because you are Alex were—” He waves a hand.

Luke finally looks at him from under his bangs, eyes a little glazed and bottom lip bitten red.

“I’m really sorry, Luke,” Reggie says and means it. He wouldn’t take back getting to share that confidence with Alex, but there’s also not a single part of him that ever wants to make Luke look like this.

“Did you like Alex?” Luke finally asks, like he’s trying to piece everything together, and Reggie laughs a little.

“I love Alex. He’s _Alex_ ,” he says as honestly as he can. “But not like _that_.”

Luke’s eyes search his face, and whatever he sees finally makes him nod.

“But you were okay kissing him?”

“Sure,” Reggie says with a shrug. “I like kissing. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Okay,” Luke says. “Okay.” 

Then he leans forward and presses his lips to Reggie’s, and Reggie no longer understands anything.

Luke kisses him like he’s afraid, like he’s holding back, and all the little moments of Reggie’s life realign.

He raises his hand, pressing his fingers gently against Luke’s cheek, and Luke sighs into his mouth, pushing a little closer.

Reggie’s loved Luke since he was fourteen and first realized that magic was real and that it was a boy in a ripped Cure t-shirt who spoke of music like the universe was listening. 

“Reg,” Luke whispers, pressing his nose against the hollow of Reggie’s throat.

“I didn’t know,” Reggie says, because he needs Luke to understand. Needs Luke to know that if he _had_ he would have kissed Luke a hundred times by now. A thousand.

Luke smiles and Reggie feels it against his skin, tilts Luke’s face up to kiss him again just so he can feel it against his lips, too.

“God, _Reg_ ,” Luke says. “I never thought…You don’t even _know_ …” 

“I do,” Reggie says. “I really do.”

It’s so stupid and so brilliant, and it feels like the high of every show they’ve ever played and every quiet moment and every time Reggie’s looked at Luke and known he was his whole world.

“How long?” he asks, because he needs to know, needs to reshape his memories into the truth.

Luke’s smile is soft, _so_ soft, and Reggie’s seen it a million times and never _knew_ — 

“Always,” Luke says, and it’s the best word Reggie’s ever heard.

**~**

“Are you happy?” Luke asks later, in the safety of their studio, the one Reggie found for Luke because even _then_ —

Outside, Julie and Carlos are throwing around a basketball, Ray refereeing and Flynn cheering on from the sidelines, adding stickers to the Orpheum memory book she’s made Julie. Willie’s taken Alex on a tour of celebrity pools, trying to persuade Alex to get on a board himself.

“One hundred percent,” Reggie says. “ _Two_ hundred.”

Luke laughs and it’s the best sound in the _world_.

“Me too,” he says, and kisses Reggie again

(and again and again).

**Author's Note:**

> come shout at me about this perfect show [on tumblr](https://madroxed.tumblr.com/) anytime.


End file.
